


The One Where Felicity is a P.I. (And Oliver's Her Latest Client)

by Emyblossom93



Series: The One Where . . . [2]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 08:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2422376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emyblossom93/pseuds/Emyblossom93
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Felicity loves solving mysteries, and a brand new one just came in the window wearing tight green leather and carrying a ruined laptop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Felicity is a P.I. (And Oliver's Her Latest Client)

From a young age, Felicity had had a love-hate relationship with mysteries. She'd grown up reading Nancy Drew and the Hardy Brothers before graduating on to the likes of Christie and Doyle. She hated them in the way one hates a thorn in their side - as an irritating presence that needed to be solved. But, she loved them in almost the same way she loved her computers - as a comforting analytical fallback. After all, since her father had walked out on her and her mother at the tender age of eight, they had been the only real constant in her life. So, it was only fitting that she center her life around the two.

 

It had started in middle school when a fellow classmate had recruited her help in finding out where her boyfriend was running off to in his spare time (visiting the classmate's best friend), and then when she was in high school she'd run a small P.I. business helping people around her small community right off of the Vegas Strip. Then, she'd gone to M.I.T. on a full scholarship for computer programming. And, while she hadn't minored in it or anything, she had taken a few classes in basic crime scene investigation. Which led her to where she was now.

 

Starling City. Land of the idle rich and home of the working poor. A place that was practically perfect for her little business, that she finally decided to call _Smoakscreen_. She'd become a part time I.T. girl, part time investigator. Within the first week she'd already helped find 2 missing persons, a missing dog, and fixed 4 computers. And since then business had grown. She'd even helped the police on a couple occasions. Although so far, the most interesting case she had so far involved setting up an untraceable phone and ghost computer for the local Russian mob (why they were in Starling she'd never know, though she now knew the correct term was _Bratva_ ). She'd been rewarded with double her usual fee and a promise of "if you ever need anything, you may ask it of us." Not that she was ever sure she'd cash in on that favor. She'd much prefer to stay out of any and all gang business.

 

At least, that had been the most interesting case. Until one night, when she was closing up to go home, a man in green had appeared in her office. The famed vigilante. She'd seen the reports on him -- going after (and sometimes killing) the one-percenters and untouchable crime bosses.

 

She wasn't sure what she'd done recently to merit a visit from the Hood though.

 

Her hands flew up and she blurted the first thing that came to mind, "If this is about those speeding tickets, I was going to pay them." No she wasn't. She was going to sneak her way into the police mainframe and erase them. She took in the slight shake through his shoulders - a chuckle, maybe? - as the hand holding his bow loosens slightly. His body is still tensed in a fight-or-flight sort of way, though.

 

"I don't go after people for speeding violations, Miss Smoak," he responds, voice low and garbled by the voice modulator.

 

"Oh," she straightens up and pushes up her glasses  - a nervous tic from childhood, "Then uh ... What can I help you with?"

 

"I'm in need of some I.T. assistance and you come to me highly recommended."

 

Felicity briefly wonders just which acquaintance they could possibly share that would suggest her to him before realizing what he's pulled something out of the bag he has strapped on. A hole-riddled laptop.

 

"What did you do to it? Use it as target practice?" Her voice pulls up half an octave in its usual I'm-both-annoyed-and-annoying way as she steps toward him without thinking, reaching out to take the destroyed machinery. She's too peeved about the ruined laptop (expensive, top-of-the-line, military grade) to really react to the way the vigilante's entire body tenses up as if she's pulled a knife on him. She turns on her heels to bring it back to her desk, "No, these are bullet holes, not arrow holes. Unless you've graduated to the 21st century?" She turns to him, smile on her lips, only to realize how tense he still is, as taunt as the bow string he likes to use.

 

"No, I didn't and I haven't," He finally speaks, "Graduated to the 21st century, as you said. I still prefer arrows. But I do need your help getting into this laptop. It's a matter of life and death."

 

She nods and hmms, sitting down  and connecting the ruined machinery to her desktop. As she does so , the vigilante comes over to her and leans against the desk, green leather barely brushing against hers, "Do you think you can get into it? I mean, wouldn't bullet holes ruin the motherboard or hard drive or whatever?"

 

"They might," She admits, scrolling through the program she'd designed specifically for this, "But if you're good enough with computers - which I am - then some information should still be able to be pulled off."

 

He stands over her, silent and unnaturally still, while she works pulling up as much information as possible. It isn't until she announces she's done that he relaxes his posture.

 

"So, there's not much on here. Just some blueprints to the Unidac building."

 

"Where the auctions are being held tomorrow?"

 

"Yes," She says, "And also some schematics for the surrounding buildings. But, only the upper levels and roofs."

 

"Sniper," He whispers, voice coming out low and garbled through the modulator.

 

Felicity shrugs, "If you say so."

 

They sit in silence as he works through the new information. Felicity can practically hear the cogs turning in his head as he pieces together what ever puzzle he's working on. As he thinks, she observes. From the way the tight leather stretches across his chest to the way his fingers rub against one another as if he's twirling a pen. He bears an imposing persona even when he's sitting down and weaponless and Felicity can see how the villians and crooks of Starling City are right to be frightened of him.

 

Honestly, Felicity could watch, study, him all night but, the long day is wearing on and she knows the next day will be just as overbearing so, she finally breaks the silence, "Was there anything else you needed? Cause I would really like to go to bed sometime before it's already tomorrow."

 

He looks up at her, a jolt running through him as if he'd completely forgotten she was there, "No," he jumps up and gathers his things in one fluid movement that she just knows she'd never be able to pull off, "That was it. I didn't mean to keep you for this long."

 

"It's fine. But just so you know, normally I'd charge double for over time," She jokes, only half kidding, "And for walking in without an appointment."

 

A chuckled runs through him as he steps back to the back-alley window, "I'll make sure to make an appointment, next time."

 

And then he's gone off into the night and Felicity thinks that that's the last she'll hopefully ever see of him, despite what he might have left her with. Which is a good thing because, she know if she gets too deep she'll want to uncover what ever secrets he's hiding. Secrets he probably would prefer stay as buried as some of his targets. And, truly, the last thing she wants to do is piss off an arrow-shooting vigilante.


End file.
